


Flow

by milfjuno



Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Fingering, Fingers in Mouth, Light breathplay, Nonbinary Juno Steel, Other, Shower Sex, Trans Peter Nureyev, a lot of sappy poetry about how gorgeous one juno steel is, having to keep quiet, loving dorky banter, switch nureyev rights, tender lovin fuckin, trans porn by trans author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:54:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23279725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/milfjuno/pseuds/milfjuno
Summary: "I, uh… wondered if you were up for company?”Peter smiles to himself. He places his box of products on the precarious edge of the sink, and walks over to undo the latch on the door.“Company, you say,” he leans in the doorframe and arches an eyebrow, “Madame Steel. You aren’t suggesting anything untoward, now, are you?”---Two established dorks have domestic, sappy, kinky sex in the shower.
Relationships: Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel
Comments: 9
Kudos: 232





	Flow

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluejorts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluejorts/gifts).



> In this fic, Peter and Juno are both AFAB. They both use masculine-coded language for their genitals. They also both receive penetration in this fic, however are enthusiastically comfortable with it. But if this makes you dysphoric, I love you, you're valid, go read smth else! 
> 
> Mr. Jorts this one goes out to you for your companionship through these dark and horny times. Added a little bonus kink in here just for you xoxoxo
> 
> TITLES ARE FUCKING HARD. God Damn.

There’s a knock on the thin metal door. Peter stands up from where he’s pulling his box of supplies out from under the sink, hyperaware of the faulty lock on the door, “I’m in here!”

“I know,” comes a voice that softens each alert part of Peter’s mind. “I, uh… wondered if you were up for company?”

Peter smiles to himself. He places his box of products on the precarious edge of the sink, and walks over to undo the latch on the door.

“Company, you say,” he leans in the doorframe and arches an eyebrow, “Madame Steel. You aren’t suggesting anything untoward, now, are you?”

Juno’s response is an exaggerated rolling of the eye and the little twinge of a smile, and Peter steps back to let him in.

“You’re stupid,” Juno supplies, but he closes the door and locks it behind him.

“You love it,” Peter responds with a wink, and looks Juno up and down, “Are you joining me in the shower?”

“No, I just thought I’d come and watch,” Juno responds, deadpan, although Nureyev isn’t exactly opposed to the idea.

“Well. You’re awfully overdressed,” Nureyev steps closer and places his hands on the hem of Juno’s shirt, “Mind if I take care of that for you?”

Juno laughs softly, “’S’long as you promise to stop sounding like a badly written porno. You’re making me feel like asking where the camera is.”

The comment earns him a pinch on the tummy as Peter pulls his shirt up over his head. Juno makes a sound of insult and Peter tsks his tongue.

“You’re going to have to be _quiet_ , dear. God knows I couldn’t stand going through another one of Buddy’s _privacy_ talks.” He tugs Juno’s sweatpants and boxers down, and reaches up to tenderly remove his eyepatch, and then they’re both standing naked in the small cold room.

Juno shivers, “Get the water running before I freeze my tits off.”

Peter’s more than used to Juno’s turn of phrase by now, but he never quite gets over the spike of amusement mixed with embarrassment at his casual indecency. It shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. He turns and moves the shower curtain aside to turn it on.

“I rather think this bathroom isn’t built for this,” he mutters, more to himself and the tiles than to Juno. The size is alright – the shower has a bath bottom, meaning there’s more than enough room to move around. But the stream of water from the showerhead above is barely enough for one person, and the metal walls are cold, and the temperature of the water is known for being temperamental in showers that exceed five minutes.

He keeps his hand in the water until it goes hot, and then calls Juno over. Juno comes close to tripping in his eagerness to get underneath the stream.

“Ahhh, that’s better,” he stretches out his arms and lets the water fall over him, his head falling back against the wall. There’s no room for Peter under the water at all, so he doesn’t bother getting in just yet. He just watches him.

His eye stays closed, one complete next to one slightly off-looking. Peter still feels uncomfortable around that topic – is glad Juno is comfortable with letting him see him sans eyepatch, but hates the sick twist in his gut every time he sees and _knows_ that wound is there because Peter didn’t see the signs early enough, considered his self-deprecation charming rather than a sign that Juno needed his attention, his care, his support. Was self-centred, is the truth of it, put his own needs and desires first. But that’s old, and Juno has asked him to stop thinking about that, and even though he can’t, not really, he can no longer do Juno the disservice of focusing on that and wasting the opportunity to adore him.

He’s extravagant like this – a painting; water twisting around his arms like ribbons. Peter admires the muscles in his arms, the droplets of water collecting in the hair on his chest. His tummy and the rolls of his waist, which Peter knows from experience are as soft as they look – his thighs. Powerful, thick thighs. Peter adores them. Peter has felt those thighs around his hips, squeezing him closer while Peter fucks him into the mattress, and he’s run his hands over those thighs while he kisses Juno softly into late hours of the night, never escalating, just loving. They are equal parts soft and strong and they look good in _everything._ The soft nestle of hair between them, the glimpse of Juno’s dick among the curls, at this moment, is more beautiful than arousing – beauty in the casual intimacy, in his love for Juno’s body and the trust Juno shows in baring it to him so comfortably.

Juno opens his eye and reaches out for him, water splashing onto the floor, “You gonna join or what, Nureyev?”

“Perhaps I aim simply to watch,” Peter suggests, but Juno isn’t having it, so Peter laughs and steps into the shower, closing the curtain behind him.

He kisses him – a gentle thing, Juno’s mouth hot and yielding to his, and then he leans back and wraps his arms around Juno’s waist, “You’re beautiful,” he tells him, and kisses his temple, “Do you know that, Juno?”

“I could be convinced,” Juno says, in a tone of voice that implies he very much knows how beautiful he is. “You wanna soap me up?”

“I’d love to,” Peter leans out of the shower to pull out his loofah and his favourite body lotion for Juno – it’s sandalwood and vanilla, and whenever Juno smells like it Peter’s head spins. Juno stands a little out of the water so the soap won’t be immediately washed away. Peter squeezes a generous amount onto the loofah and leans in to kiss Juno.

Peter’s lost in him all at once. Juno can get Peter anywhere he wants to with a kiss, and he suspects Juno knows it. But the kiss doesn’t escalate, and Juno pulls back and smiles softly at him.

“You’re lovely,” Peter sighs, because his mind is filled with cotton fluff that dissolves into mindless sweet nothings. He presses the loofah against Juno’s chest, is gentle over the swell of his chest and the small barbells pierced into his nipples, and even more gentle over the scars underneath. He watches the bubbles form and frame Juno’s skin.

Juno puts his arms loosely around Peter’s neck as he soaps up his belly, smiles and leans forward to kiss the side of his face. Peter is careful over the six-inch scar, still raised and pink and new, and Juno laughs softly.

“You look upset,” he says.

Peter becomes aware of the tightness in his face, the firm press of his lips and the frown lines on his forehead, and relaxes. He sighs, “I don’t like seeing you hurt, dear.”

“It’s in the past, sweetheart. Anyway, I think my scars look good on me,” Juno says, and a soft mischievous smile appears on his face, “I’ve heard good looking boys dig ladies with scars.”

Peter smiles his sharp smile, “That they certainly do.” And drops gently to his knees.

“Wow. Did not expect that to work,” Juno says, and Peter laughs and presses a kiss to the skin just above the hair between his thighs.

“Sorry to disappoint, I’m just down here to lather you up,” he explains as he starts the loofah on those stunning thighs. He scrubs up and down and around his legs, his hips and inner thighs, feels the water on his scalp and back. Juno’s hand pets through his hair lovingly while he does.

When he’s done, Peter stands up and turns Juno around with gentle hands on his shoulders. He presses his lips to the nape of his neck and kisses while he soaps up the expanse of Juno’s back, the curve of his spine and his spots and freckles and scars. His muscled shoulders and arms.

Juno turns and presses a kiss to Peter’s lips. His body is slippery against Peter’s, which makes him smile.

“Thank you,” Juno says when he parts from him.

“For what? I assure you it’s my pleasure,” Peter kisses him again and then steps back, drawing Juno along with him underneath the stream of the water.

The soap washes off of him in gentle waves, and Juno keeps his arms around Peter’s waist and hugs him tight. Peter presses a kiss to his shoulder, warm and wet and nice-smelling.

“Is it your turn?” Juno asks, and Peter steps back.

“If you’d be so kind.”

Juno rolls his eye and grins and reaches out of the shower to grab at Peter’s box of products. He knocks it into the sink and swears loudly, reaching further to get his hand in to the sink and grab the nearest tube.

“Dear, do try and keep it down,” Peter sighs exasperatedly to him when he leans back into the shower.

The product Juno’s got _is_ a shower gel, although it’s not Peter’s favourite. It’ll do, though, even if he imagines the smell of tea-tree oil will be considerably less alluring.

Juno washes off the loofah Peter passes him and then squeezes the shower gel onto it. They shuffle awkwardly around in the shower for a bit so that they’ve swapped positions and Juno can stay underneath the water while Peter stands out of it.

The first thing Juno does is brush the wet hair from the side of Peter’s face and pull him into a kiss again. This one is a little different in tone to the ones before it, just the hint of lust flickering in the back of Peter’s stomach. But then Juno pulls away and smiles perfectly innocently and begins scrubbing Peter’s chest.

Unlike Juno, there are no scars here on him. Despite his disadvantages as a child, he had the fortune that Mag put his care and comfort before most other things, and he’d started on blockers only months after coming under his wing.

“You’re so handsome,” Juno praises soothingly, “I love getting to see you like this.”

“Naked?” Peter raises an eyebrow. He gets flicked on the end of the nose with a soapy loofah for his efforts.

“Obviously,” Juno says. The hand not soaping up his stomach comes to rest on the plane of his chest, slides down to his hip. “I love touching you,” he murmurs, mostly to himself.

“What a coincidence. I find I rather enjoy being touched by you,” Peter says, and narrowly misses the loofah this time, “Ah, dear, don’t play games in the shower, or we’re both going to end up on the bathroom floor.”

“That a promise?” Juno asks, and Peter laughs.

“I meant more in the bruised legs and broken arms way than the sexual way, but interpret it as you will.”

Juno smiles and kisses him again, and then kisses his cheek and the side of his nose. He lathers the rest of Peter’s belly, all the time murmuring to him about how tall and powerful and sexy he looks, like a sculpture, like a shrine he wants to get on his knees in front of.

“And speaking of,” Juno might wink, or he might just blink (it’s… a little hard to tell these days), and then gets to his knees. He’s less graceful than Peter, his knees thudding on the bath floor, and Peter’s skin prickles with hope that nobody hears.

Juno presses his mouth just above Peter’s dick, shaved in contrast to Juno’s, and kisses him there. He soaps up Peter’s legs and sits back on his heels to look up at him. Peter looks down, and Juno grins.

“I love the way you look at me,” he says, “It’s fucking hot. You have such pretty eyes, they freeze me in place. And your hair looks so good around your face like this, I love your longer hair.”

He doesn’t give Peter a chance to talk, just leans up on his knees again and kisses his hipbone, “You’re so sexy,” he mutters against his skin, “So handsome. It drives me cr— up the wall.”

Peter’s lips quirk at the way Juno catches himself. He’s been learning to adjust his vernacular to be more sensitive, and it only serves as yet more evidence of how deserving and worthy his lady is, his rough and ever-growing heart.

Then Juno kisses his hip again, and then adds teeth.

“Juno,” Peter hisses, but Juno doesn’t pull away until there’s a red-purple mark stark against his light brown skin.

Juno grins up at him wide with all mischief, “What? Nobody’s gonna see it.”

Peter rolls his eyes, bites back a fond smile, and curls his hand into his hair, “You’re insatiable.”

“Don’t forget it, babe,” Juno says, and stands up, “Turn around for me.”

Peter does as instructed. His stomach is swirling – it’s Juno’s fault, as it usually is; he just has a weak spot for that pet name in particular. He has a feeling he’s smiling like a smitten fool as Juno soaps up his back.

Juno finishes doing so, and then squeezes Peter’s ass lightly, “All done,” he says.

Peter twists in his arms to kiss him, and then walks him back so that they’re pressing close underneath the stream of the water, washing the soap off of himself.

“Could you grab my shampoo, dear?” he asks.

“Yeah, that’s the pink one, right?” Juno says, and at Peter’s confirmation he pulls back the shower curtain a bit and reaches out into the sink to try and find it.

The view this gives Peter is, well. Very good. What Peter had been thinking before, about his nakedness being beautiful in a way more emotional than sexual, begins to less apply to his current train of thinking.

“You know,” Peter says, and puts his hand on the side of Juno’s hip, angling himself to stand behind Juno so that his hips just barely brush Juno’s ass, “I think I’ll wash my hair tomorrow.”

“Oh, really?” Juno’s tone shows that he’s immediately joined the same line of thinking. He straightens up, the back of his body pressing up against Peter’s front, “What’re you gonna do instead, huh?”

“Close the shower curtain for me, dear, won’t you?”

Juno does as he’s told.

Peter takes a step far enough back that he’s mostly out of the water, and nearly pressed up against the back wall. Juno’s body is mostly in the water, but he leans his head back on Peter’s shoulder so that his head is out of it. Which happens to perfectly align with Peter’s ideas.

Peter leans down and puts his mouth on Juno’s neck.

Juno breathes out a happy sound straight away, and Peter kisses a trail up and down his neck softly. One of his arms wraps around Juno’s chest, his fingers just the right height to play with one of Juno’s nipples, and Juno lets out a gentle breathy-sigh.

Peter smiles against his neck for a moment, before biting gently.

“Shit,” Juno breathes, barely audible, and his head tries to tip back further, bare more of his neck to Peter, if that were possible. Peter replies in turn by biting harder and tweaking one of his nipple piercings.

Juno gives him soft, breathy sighs, and as much as Peter would like to keep him there forever, in this state of gentle half-pleasure, he knows the deadline for hot water is fast approaching.

Juno’s body is warm and snug and solid against his. He doesn’t move his mouth, nor the hand playing with his piercing. But the other arm snakes down Juno’s body, and reaches his dick.

“Yeah,” Juno says quietly, his hips twitching forward against Peter’s fingers, “Yes. Fuck.”

Peter’s mouth trails up to bite on Juno’s ear, and he slides his fingers deeper into the folds of him. He’s glad to find he’s already getting wet and warm under Peter’s fingers.

He slides his fingers back and starts paying dedicated attention to Juno’s dick – rubbing it in his fingers. Juno leans his head back and pushes his hips forwards and whispers quiet swear words and praises.

Peter kisses Juno’s neck again and speeds his fingers, and Juno arches back against him and goes, _“Oh_ ,” in his full volume, and Peter stops suddenly.

Juno whines softly, and his hips hitch up against Peter’s hand, but Peter shifts to hold him down, back against him.

“We can’t do this if you’re going to be loud,” he mutters, kissing behind Juno’s ear again, “Stay quiet for me, darling. Can you do that?”

“If I say yes, will you get your fingers inside of me?” Juno asks.

Peter grins against his skin and presses a kiss to the back of his head, “If those are the terms, I’m sure I could manage it.”

He snakes his hand further between Juno’s legs and finds his entrance. He leans back so that he can kiss Juno while he pushes the first finger in.

He feels Juno’s breath hitch against the arm around his chest with the effort of not making any noise. He smiles and breaks off the kiss. “Good, Juno.”

Juno bites his lip.

Peter fingers him slowly at first, making sure he’s soft and wet enough for a second finger to join the first. When it does, Juno sighs against Peter’s shoulder, turning his head to press a distracted kiss to Peter’s neck. He’s quiet enough that Peter doesn’t call him out for it, just focuses on trying to find his sweet spot.

He knows he’s found it when Juno’s sigh punches out of him with just the hint of voice, and he whispers, “Oh, fuck.” Peter smiles, and kisses his cheek, and searches to hit that spot again.

Juno begins to gasp softly in time with the thrust of Peter’s fingers into him. It’s not a problem until it begins to escalate – soft ‘hh, hh, hh’ becoming ‘hah, hah, fuck, please’, and Peter tsks and flicks his nipple.

“Don’t make me keep you quiet,” Peter says, low into his ear.

Juno groans low at that, and Peter can’t help but laugh.

His wrist is starting to get incredibly sore at this angle, so he pulls his fingers out. Juno makes an awfully bereft sound, unselfconscious and whining and loud, and it’s cut off with the hand that had been on his nipple clapping across his mouth.

“I said, stay quiet,” Peter growls.

Juno moans, muffled, into his hand, and Peter nips him on the ear.

“Oh, _Ju_ -no,” he chides, close to his skin, drawing the name out, and lets his other hand slide over his dick again, sliding his fingers into the folds of him and making his whole body twitch against his, “You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Juno’s response is to shake his head and try to moan again, a pleading sound, and Peter’s gut reacts like a firework has been set off at the base of him.

He leans down to kiss and bite at his neck, Juno breathing hard out of his nose when his fingers in the meantime slide deeper and into him again. Juno grabs around at Nureyev’s ass and groans and spreads his legs a little wider.

“Good,” Peter praises low in his throat, “Make it easy for me, darling. I want to fuck you senseless.”

Juno’s response is another muffled groan. Peter moves his hand so that the heel of his hand is driving into his dick while his fingers slide inside of him, and Juno makes a high-pitched, desperate sound. His knees weaken, and Peter feels a flash of pure terror that they’re about to give way, but Juno recovers and grinds his hips forward against Peter’s hand.

He thinks the discomfort in his wrist is worth this, worth Juno writhing and desperate against him, his ass accidentally grinding against Nureyev’s dick in a way that sends wonderful bursts of pleasure spiralling off into his lower gut, worth the feeling of hot breath from Juno’s nose over his fingers over Juno’s mouth and the slick-soft feeling of his insides clamping around his fingers. Peter pushes in a third.

Juno’s mouth opens against his hand and he moans a sharp, “ _Ah,”_ which is muffled but not nearly enough. Peter’s fingers still inside him and Juno makes a sound of frustration and reaches one hand up.

He peels Nureyev’s fingers off of his mouth, and lowers them to his throat. “If you wanna do that,” his voice is rough, “you’re gonna have to find a new way to keep me quiet,” he says.

Peter makes an embarrassing sound before he means to. In the past, he had his reservations about this particular kink of Juno’s, but Juno (after a lot of eye-rolling and insisting it wasn’t necessary) had agreed on a predetermined boundary of how far this particular activity goes. Boundaries established and safety assured, Peter had, over time, come to very much enjoy it.

He pushes the heel of his hand down hard, and thrusts his fingers.

“Oh!” Juno gasps, his head pushing back on Peter’s shoulder, “Oh, fuck, please, oh Go—”

He’s cut off by Peter’s hand tightening around his throat. Not far enough to cause any damage, (and quite honestly, probably not even enough to stop any sound if Juno truly were inclined to being noisy, but Juno, thankfully, plays along). He lets out an aborted sound and then falls very quiet, his mouth still hanging open when Peter thrusts into him again. He tries to seek out his sweet spot again, knows he’s found it when Juno’s body twitches all over against his and he makes another half-sound.

Peter turns his head and kisses Juno’s hair, his grip loosening so Juno can breathe, his chest heaving.

“Good,” Peter murmurs, “Much better. You look so good like this. I want to do so many things to you, Juno. I want to touch you for hours, suck you off, pin you down, be inside you. Make you come in as many different ways as possible.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Juno groans, empathetically, and the hand around his throat tightens again.

He fucks him on his fingers, gradually speeding, every now and then sliding them out to rub messily, relentlessly against his dick. Juno alternates between grunting choked noises and gasping for breath, and his hands grip so hard at Peter’s thighs he feels he may be bruised by the end of this.

It’s forever and no time at all until gasps, arches his back and goes tight, and his walls clamp down on Peter’s fingers.

“That’s it,” Peter releases the grip on his throat and mumbles to him, “Perfect, Juno.”

His orgasm seems to hold him in suspension for a moment, whining and gasping. Then he groans and his knees go weak, and Peter finds himself hit by the full weight of him all at once. His back crashes hard into the back wall of the shower. His wind is knocked out of him with a pained, “Oof.”

Juno, on the comedown, is blissfully unaware of this. “Oh, shit,” he whispers softly, a pleased tinge to his voice, and he twitches with aftershocks, “Oh, shit…”

Peter fights to get his breath back, chuckles and kisses the side of his face, “Nice?”

“So good. _Fuck_ , that was so good,” Juno shifts against him and groans softly, “Shit, Nureyev. ‘S unfair.”

Nureyev, all things said and done, is incredibly pleased with himself. He pulls his fingers out of Juno slowly, so as not to overstimulate the poor darling, and twists his wrist to get the ache out, “Alright?”

Juno leans his head back to look up at Peter and laughs, “Just getting... my breath back.”

Peter grins and wraps his arms around Juno’s tummy and leans down to kiss him. It’s at this perfect time that the water goes cold.

“Ah!” Juno hisses, throwing himself from Nureyev so violently he almost trips over the tub and takes the whole shower curtain down with him. He fumbles angrily for the tap and turns it off.

Nureyev quirks a smile at him, “Way to kill the afterglow, hm?” He stretches, “ _Well_. I’d call that quite the successful adventure, wouldn’t yo—”

Peter gets cut off by Juno pressing him hard against the back wall.

“Who said we’re finished?” he asks, voice sly and mischievous. “Correct me if I’m wrong, sweetheart, but I don’t think you’re _finished_ at all.”

Peter’s body runs cold and then very, very hot, “Oh.”

Juno leans up to kiss him, opening his mouth straight into it. Peter has barely a second to get a hold of himself before Juno’s tongue is in his mouth and then his fingers press against his dick. The sensation of _that_ is like an anchor, and Peter feels his gut tug in response to it, gasping into Juno’s mouth.

Juno breaks from him and grins, his fingers never slowing, “Nureyev. You aren’t about to get loud on me, are you?”

Peter glares as savagely as he can and, after a few noble tries, gets out, “Of course I’m not.”

Juno grins and leans in to kiss him again. He finds, somehow – Peter’s certainly too dizzy to be paying much attention – his hand, and intertwines their fingers, before pinning their hands back on the wall. He’s too short to pin Nureyev’s hand above him, so it ends up being more next to his head, but Peter’s in no state to complain.

His tongue is on the back of his teeth, then running along Nureyev’s own tongue, and Juno makes those tiny hitching noises into him. God, Nureyev can remember kissing him for the first time, how easily he’d melted into him, let Nureyev’s hands wander wherever they pleased, and the _sounds_ he’d made had almost burned him up from the inside out and made him want to fuck him right there on the couch, not even for the heist, just for fun, just for more of those _sounds_.

Juno’s fingers slip deeper, and then one pushes gently inside of him, and Peter’s mouth falls open with a sharp gasp.

Juno grins and moves away to kiss the corner of his mouth, down his neck. Peter’s more than wet enough, what with Juno’s entire performance and the fact that his body was enough out of the water to not be washed clean, and soon a second one of Juno’s fingers joins the first.

Peter _won’t_ make a noise. It’s a matter of pride. He gasps again instead, feels his whole shoulders and chest rise and fall with it, and Juno breathes out hot against his neck.

“Can I mark you?” he asks, and Peter shivers.

He feels Juno’s grin against his neck, “Is that a yes?”

“Y-es,” Peter manages, and bites back on an ensuing ‘ _please’_.

The word’s barely out of his mouth and Juno kisses his neck, then adds teeth and slides his fingers deeper into Peter at the same time. Peter trembles like a leaf.

Juno’s mouth unseals from him and he licks the mark Peter knows he’s made, and then pulls his fingers out of him.

Peter gets as far as opening his mouth when Juno interjects, “Ah—no noise, Nureyev. Not if you want me to keep going.”

Peter swallows down a whine and breathes shakily. Juno smiles wide, and then raises his fingers to Peter’s lips.

A part of Peter (the one between his ears) deeply regrets opening up to Juno about his more personal kinks, because Juno loves to act on them whenever possible. Another part of Peter (the one between his legs) enthusiastically does not even know the meaning of the word embarrassment.

Peter opens his mouth and Juno presses his fingers against his tongue. “Good boy,” he praises, and a thigh gets shoved between his legs to grind against him.

Peter’s eyes roll shut, and he closes his lips around Juno’s fingers. He can taste the salt-savoury slick of himself, licks it off of the rough skin. Sucks on them, a little bit, and Juno nips just underneath his jaw and presses his thigh in and then leans back and smiles and pulls his fingers slowly out.

He moves his thigh back and slides his fingers purposefully slow over his dick, and then down, curling into him. Peter sighs and Juno starts thrusting his fingers again. It’s heavenly, those fingers inside him, opening him up. Peter rolls his head back and closes his eyes to enjoy the feeling. Then the tip of Juno’s finger brushes over his g-spot, and Peter’s whole body lights up. He feels a groan build in his throat, opts instead to roll his head to look down, bite his lip and let his eyebrows furrow in.

“Good?” Juno asks near his ear.

Peter nods his head and on the next thrust Juno hits that spot with wicked intent, and he keeps at it, thrusting his fingers faster and harder. Peter’s whole stomach goes gooey and hot and he thinks his eyes open to roll back in his head but he’s not sure.

He becomes aware, a moment later, that he’s whining in the back of his throat, a helpless, soft sound. Juno isn’t calling him out for it, and when he opens his eyes he finds Juno’s trained on him.

He grins softly at him, and Juno’s tongue wets his lips. The look in his eye is focused, intense, the kind of look he fixed Rex Glass with back in the Kanagawa mansion.

That was the first crack Peter Nureyev felt in his mask – a moment where the lines between him and Glass had wavered – in the standoff in the Kanagawa mansion. The trust in those eyes, the determination, placing the decision into Nureyev’s hands and waiting to follow his lead. Nureyev had wanted to feel like that forever.

Then Juno presses his thumb against Peter’s dick and Peter arches off the wall. His mouth falls open in a silent cry, and then he slumps back again and groans.

“Fuck,” Juno mutters, and presses a third finger in against the other two. Peter feels himself stretch and fill, squeeze around Juno’s fingers, and Juno touches his g-spot again and he gasps hard and shudders goes dizzy and light, and he thinks he’s gasping for air but he can hardly hear himself.

He feels Juno’s body crowd in close to his, and he kisses along his neck, up to his ear and says, low, “Are you gonna come for me, Nureyev?”

His fingers press hard against his g-spot. Peter gasps, and his back arches again, and he gets out, “I—” before he comes, hard. He loses himself, for a moment, to a haze of sensation, knows his mouth is open and vaguely recognises that Juno’s hand has left his to clap over it.

When it finally passes, Peter slumps back into the wall. His insides throb, powerfully enough he can almost feel his whole body twitching with it, and he catches his breath.

Then he laughs, breathlessly.

He hears Juno laugh, too, and he kisses him, his fingers pulling out in a way that makes Nureyev twitch. “You’re ridiculous. This is ridiculous.”

Nureyev raises an eyebrow, “You started it.”

“And aren’t you glad I finished it?” Juno asks, and Peter snorts at his lame joke.

“C’mon,” Juno steps out of the tub. His grin is plastered on his face, “You think you can stand up, handsome? Or have you been fucked outta your brains?”

Nureyev grins, “Oh, definitely that. But no, I can stand,” he makes his way out of the tub, Juno grabbing hold of him to help him over.

This ends with him inevitably wrapped in Juno’s arms, and Juno leans up on tippy-toes to press a peck to his lips, and Peter chases down to kiss him properly.

“Someone definitely heard us, you know,” Juno says.

“Oh, I doubt that. Ship creaks a lot, and you were very good at staying quiet for me.”

“Yeah,” Juno says, and a smile dances around the edge of his mouth, “You, uh… weren’t as much. Didn’t pick you for the screaming type, not that I’m not, y’know, pleasantly surprised…”

“You’re exaggerating,” Peter demands, dead serious, already half-filled with mortification.

“Uh… yeah. Alright, yeah, sure. Probably nobody heard. Ship creaks, you know?”

“Oh my God…” Nureyev puts a hand to his face.

Juno chuckles lightly and Peter hears his soft footsteps on the metal floor. A moment later, he can feel his heat near him again and Juno says, “Arms out.”

He’s gotten Peter’s bathrobe from the hook on the wall. He holds it up for Nureyev to slide his arms in, then ties it softly at the waist.

“Don’t worry,” Juno says. “It was… uh. Nice, anyway. Getting this time with you. It felt… good.”

And suddenly Nureyev doesn’t give much of a damn who heard.

His chest is still exposed. Juno leans in and kisses it. Then he nods his head towards the door.

“You go first,” he says. “I’ll follow after.”

“Thank you, dear,” Peter says. “Will I meet you in my room or yours?”

Juno contemplates him for a moment, and then says, “Mine. Softer pillows.”

Peter smiles, “Alright.” Then he adds, “I love you, dear.”

“Yeah,” Juno says, but he smiles back, “Get outta here, you sappy dork. And don’t let anyone see you on the way out.”


End file.
